User blog comment:Bartholomew Bilberry Bowstring/The First of Many/@comment-32303-20160426040820/@comment-26024035-20160501182634

Shelran received the message about two hours later, and after imprisoning the vixen and finishing his business with Alistair, the big otter struck out for Brockhall. It was a strange place, Brockhall, untouched for seasons ever since word spread of the fearsome snakes that once lived there. The first time Shelran had visited it, purely out of his own curiousity, it still seemed to stink of death. The bodies had been cleared from it, but it seemed the history of the old hideout of the Corim wasn't going to be leaving any time soon. The otter bit into another pear, licking the juice from his lips. After a good long trek, he found Brockhall again. Steeling himself for the unsettling atmosphere of the old oak tree, the otter approached it cautiously, a javelin grasped in one paw, his half-eaten pear in the other.